|From all things, Helena has been (detached) wrote in rooms,|
@ 2014-05-07 01:04:00
|Entry tags:||!tales, *log, helena wayne, snow white|
Tales: NYC: Helena and Snow
[Staying in Marvel wasn't an option and going home to DC even less of one. They'd find her in either place and being found meant lock up. A room somewhere, maybe a cell, therapy with someone else, and being forgotten while being forced to acknowledge how alone she was. No thank you. Instead she went exploring, going past the door with the glam of the 20's, past the zombie door, past one door and then another until she finally found one that looked a lot like NYC.
If she didn't like it, she didn't have to stay, right? Right. First things first, she found a church. Not for prayer, not for redemption, but because they were the easiest to hide in and around. A quick check inside said that everyone was busy, a priest disappearing into the back. She crept in quietly and headed for the upper chamber. A window was all she needed to get her outside and onto a ledge. It took a little while, but eventually her butt went numb, then her shoulders, and slowly the rest of her. By now, it was no longer alarming as she settled into a stone lion on the ledge, ears moving back and forth while she listened to the sounds of the city.
There was an evening service, people milling about below before they ventured inside and from her spot, she could catch bits of the sermon. It was largely ignored though. The people were so similar to those in Gotham, with the exception of certain elements. No supervillains, no superheroes, just people. A home, maybe. It was too soon to tell.
She remained still and silent as the people came back out and eventually left. She listened. She watched. She waited. The sun felt good on her stone skin, warming her as the day carried on. It was the longest she'd stayed like this and the sky was beginning to darken when it suddenly felt wrong. She moved, lifting up on her paws but she needed more than that, needed more than a reshuffling of limbs and wings to shake it. She leapt off the ledge, wings splaying outward to catch a draft that carried her into a nearby alley.
Unable to shake the feeling, she paced the alley, stomping at the asphalt until the change back began. She stilled, her flank against a brick wall. It began with her feet and moved slowly upwards, but even as her wings and tail began to retreat, she still could not feel her hands. They were numb, even as sensation began to return to her back and when she tried to straighten her fingers, nothing happened.] What the? [She tried again, and again, but they would neither curl nor extend and when her knees gave out, they made a sound like stone cracking on stone when she put them out in front of her to stop from landing face first on the floor of the alley.]